Human
by jesswess
Summary: When Melise volunteers to represent District 2 in the Hunger Games, she has one mantra to live by: Don't be human. But even in the ruthless bloodbath of the Games, she may find that a little humanity might be needed more than ever, especially when she realizes who she has to fight against.
1. Introduction

(Author's Note: Hi! This is another fic idea I had in the midst of writer's block for my original novel (It happens). This first chapter is a short one, I know, though it's more of an introduction than a chapter. I'm pretty excited about this one. Hope you enjoy!)

* * *

It was almost time.

She was pushed lightly into the circular chamber, where she immediately felt of the sides, wondering where it would take her next. By the time she dared a glance back, the glass door shut with a rush of air, leaving her in a vacuum of silence.

She was silent, too—her body completely still except for her uneven breaths, which she tried hard to compose. Whatever noise was in the room was behind her now, all memories of the Capitol left behind. She turned around to look at the dim room despite herself, putting her hand against the glass, only to see her mentor leaving without a goodbye, walking away with the sort of confidence not unusual for victors of her district.

She barely had a moment's hesitation before the pedestal below her began to rise, lifting her into whatever might face her, and she whirled around to face the front, knowing she couldn't afford to be vulnerable now. Pitch blackness was all she saw for what seemed like minutes, until slowly a light was forming at the top, and she could just barely see the outline of a deceiving sun.

When she rose to the top, she was breathless despite the brave façade she put on. She suddenly, irrationally wanted to push herself back down to where it was safe, where she wouldn't be forced to kill or be killed, despite all she had been trained for—

No—she couldn't fear. She had waited for this. She was ready.

Wasn't she?

The tributes stood on their pedestals in absolute silence, waiting for the inevitable appearance of the number zero and the sound of the gong that would allow them to charge to their freedoms or deaths. The frightened ones simply stood in quiet, gazing at the arena before them in fear. The braver ones glared at each other, ready to pounce, their bodies poised, their fingers itching to snatch one of the weapons before them.

Melise, it seemed, was one of the braver ones. She stood still, unwilling to look at anyone for fear of becoming too human—though a familiar figure in the corner of her eye was pulling at her attention.

Slowly, she dared a glance over at the line of tributes waiting for the countdown to end. She saw one of them at the very end of the line, who stood on a pedestal himself, waiting out the sixty seconds to face the Games. Clenching her hand into a fist at her side, Melise found herself staring at the male opponent from her district, her heart pounding in time to the countdown.

And her brother was helplessly staring back.


	2. Volunteer

Days—weeks before the Hunger Games were before her, she was prepared. Years of training with the warrior mindset of her district had led to the moment where that pedestal would rise. She was ready for whatever the Games would throw at her—no matter how unexpected.

The Reapings were always unexpected, though, no matter how much they tried to deny it. She never knew what would happen next, no matter how prepared she was for it. Nobody did. But she knew one thing at least: It was her moment of honor that would come today.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror in the corner of her bedroom, unmoving, knowing this was her day, whether she liked it or not. She found herself taking in deep breaths despite herself, pulling her hair up, knowing her face had to be seen.

"You ready?" asked a familiar voice.

She glanced over her shoulder, seeing her sixteen-year-old brother Carrick leaning against the door frame, his fingers fidgeting at the hem of his dress shirt—something he always did when he was nervous. He had less of a reason to be nervous than she did, but she supposed that was what everyone felt on the day of the Reaping, no matter what they knew might happen. The Reapings always kept a grave feeling in the public's gut despite any expectations they were to face. Melise was fairly sure it was the same everywhere else—maybe worse than here, but similar nevertheless.

"As I'll ever be," said Melise, looking back at her reflection. On any other day, she would have expected to see herself the image of confidence—smiling, knowing she had what it took to make it to the top. In any case, she did; she had prepared for this for years. She _was_ ready.

Yet the butterflies never went away.

"Nervous?" Carrick asked, perhaps noticing something in her face she couldn't detect herself. She tried to hide it but was unsuccessful, no matter how good at hiding it she might have been.

"A little. Just need to breathe," said Melise with a mostly confident air, straightening her posture to look herself in the eye. "Reapings always make me nervous."

"Especially when it's your own," said Carrick, and something dropped in his tone of voice. Slowly, Melise turned around, seeing him avert his eyes, perhaps not meaning to point it out. There was an inscrutable look in his eyes—something she saw often, knowing that he and their mother weren't too fond of her decision to volunteer this time around.

After a brief pause of consideration, she walked over to him, gripping him tightly by the shoulders. "I'm not nervous now. I have what it takes."

"I know." Carrick shrugged, looking at her with blue eyes that nearly matched hers. "Just promise me that you'll win."

"I promise."

"Good. Come on… Don't want to be late."

"They can wait for me," said Melise simply, and her brother made a short laugh, shaking his head as he walked back into the hall.

Melise waited for a few moments, directing her gaze back to the mirror, knowing it would be the last time she would see herself in her smaller home of District 2 whether she won or not—and she quickly tore her gaze away, following her brother down the hallway.

The people were already on the move outside when she walked out to her section of the stone village. Everyone was dressed more nicely than usual, meandering to the heart of town, where Reapings usually took place. Melise walked with her mother and brother, both of whom were talking quietly while she was mostly silent, leading the way in front of them. She caught the eye of her personal mentor, Bry, who nodded to her meaningfully as he went toward the stage, and she nodded back, knowing what was about to come.

They were greeted by the sound of someone singing idly into the microphone, perhaps eager to see the groves of children waiting to be Reaped.

"Come along, come along!" said the woman eagerly, the familiar figure named Eustacia that Melise knew to be the representative of District 2 from the Capitol. The woman's rainbow-colored attire and hair threw her off, and it seemed that it was the butt of jokes from many of the louder children around her that didn't know any better. The children, it seemed, were happier in this district than others she had seen on the broadcast of the Hunger Games. They had a reason to be, with warriors decidedly fighting their battles for them.

Warrior was a good term. Melise liked that term.

She shared a glance with her brother, who clapped her on the shoulder without a word before heading off to the boy's side to get his finger pricked. Melise immediately looked away, not wanting any emotion to get a hold of her as she meandered to the girl's side—the last time she would do so. The Peacekeeper forcefully took her finger and drew the blood for sampling before casually shoving her forth, and she scrambled into the crowd, making sure she got a spot near the front.

The colorful woman on stage was humming more noticeably this time, rolling on her extravagant heels as she brought the glass bowl filled with names to the front, setting it on a lone table in the center.

"I hope you're ready, District 2," she trilled to those in the front of the growing crowd, shuffling over to the microphone beside it.

_I am,_ Melise thought.

The ceremony began in short time, starting with the basics—the dedications and the history of Panem being read and shown for all to see. Melise barely paid attention, her eyes on the screen but her mind blank—something she wanted, knowing that thinking would be her downfall, in this case.

It wasn't long until the names were to be called. Eustacia bounded over to the bowl, humming again as her hand hovered over the names.

"May the odds be ever in your favor."

It didn't take as agonizingly long as it did in other districts, for the woman knew what was to come, taking a random name immediately and opening it. She called out the name of someone Melise recognized to be a twelve-year-old girl from her part of the village. The girl's eyes widened with fear, but she didn't move.

Now was her chance.

"I volunteer as tribute," Melise called immediately before she could stop herself. She glanced over at the small girl to see a strange expression of terrified relief. Melise managed to look away then, keeping herself numb as she stepped through the path the crowd made for her, leading up to the platform.

"And here is a volunteer," the woman squealed, holding out her hand to help Melise up the stairs when she neared. Melise didn't take it, staring forward at nothing as she led herself, until she finally arrived to stand at the front. She stared at the crowd and they blankly stared back.

"What is your name?" Eustacia asked pleasantly, shoving the microphone into her face.

The newest tribute resisted the urge to swipe it away, only saying impassively, "Melise Bade."

"Well, Melise, we honor your courage," said the woman pleasantly before strolling over to the glass bowl again, humming to herself. "Now for the boys."

The picking this time was different when one stood on the stage. Despite everything she tried to force down, all Melise could do was wonder—especially about who she would be forced to compete against.

She found out soon enough.

"Carrick Bade!"

A roll of shock overcame her, but she didn't outwardly react, knowing the name would change in time. So, with the rest of the crowd, she waited for another voice to volunteer.

But the voice never came.

She jerked her head up, staring at the crowd, which was unresponsive at first, perhaps just as surprised as she was at the strange silence. And when still no voices were heard, it hit them all at once: There was no District 2 volunteer this time.

There was no movement in the crowd as she scanned it, until she noticed a tall figure nearby begin to take his steps, perhaps having waited for another name, too. She stared at him as he shakily waded through the crowd, looking forward blankly even as he climbed the stairs to join her on the platform. Melise tried to hide it, but her breathing had become suddenly uneven, the idea of this setup gripping at her chest.

Carrick stumbled up onto the stage, staring only at Melise, who now stared back, eyes wide.

"What an interesting turnout we have here," said Eustacia, gripping the boy by his broad shoulders as she led him to stand directly beside Melise. The latter quickly averted her eyes.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you our tributes for the 59th annual Hunger Games!"

The crowd reluctantly applauded as they always did, secretly loathing it but knowing they could do nothing else. Melise forced a smile, though she was staring at her shoes, unwilling to look up. But Eustacia, it seemed, was keen on changing that, for she put her hand on Melise's back, gently turning her to face her brother.

"Now, you two, shake hands."

Melise didn't dare for the longest time—only hoping that if she didn't look, he would go away. But his gaze persisted, and she slowly turned to face him, looking at his outstretched hand. Slowly, after a moment's contemplation, her eyes trailed up to his, and she hesitated for a long moment before finally shaking hands. A look of concern spread across her brother's face when realizing that both their hands were trembling.

Eustacia called out a pleasant 'thank you' to the rest of the lucky ones, and they then let go, and the ceremony was over. Immediately they were forced away into the stone building behind them, away from the home they knew before. Melise dared a glance back to catch her mother's eye, and she could see nothing but tears.

Neither sibling looked at the other as they were lead through a dully-lit but extravagant corridor. There were two doors near the end, one of which, she supposed, was the room for final goodbyes. She proved herself right when she was pulled by another Peacekeeper toward the door on the left, and she didn't even get a chance to say a word to Carrick before she was forced inside and the door shut soundly behind her, cutting her off completely from the ceremony outside.

Melise stood in silence for many moments, trying to register the situation, not having expected it to feel like this at all. She expected to be bold as she usually was—confident that her training would get her to the top. Now, though, she wasn't quite sure she wanted to go to the top at all.

She whirled around, staring at the door, suddenly regretting her volunteering entirely, but she couldn't turn back now. Now she didn't have a choice—

The door opened just as quickly as it shut, and Melise stepped back, staring at the mentor that had been training her lately—and despite every emotion she was feeling, there was one particularly loud emotion that outmatched the others, as it often did.

"_Why didn't anyone volunteer_?" she snapped, hitting her hand uncontrollably against the wall. A Peacekeeper cracked it open but her mentor shook her head, ushering for them to shut it again. "_Why_ did they let him in?"

He seemed to have already been prepared for this talk. "These things happen sometimes, you know… Some years don't even have any volunteers, let alone one—"

"Why was it _this_ year, Bry?"

"Hey, take this out on the one responsible: Eustacia. Not me." He lightly shoved her back when she looked poised to attack. She was pushed all too easily, and she sunk back against the wall, letting in a breath. Her mentor only stared, perhaps unable to see the problem. "Melise, I suggest you forget that it's your brother and start treating him like a tribute. Hurts less when it all comes down to it."

"I'm not going to kill my little brother."

There was a malevolent glint in the man's eyes, something she had seen before in the Games he had won. He was a menace out there, as many were. "We'll see."

They both knew what he meant: She had to win, no matter the cost. If she wanted to survive and bring honor, that was what she had to do. Would being the victor bring honor, though, if she were to win in the wake of her dead brother? Perhaps she wouldn't even be the victor—Perhaps her brother's strength from working in the district would aid him more than she could surmise, if the arena permitted—

"Tell me something that'll help," Melise said, sitting down in a wooden chair behind her. "You're my mentor. Advise me."

Bry's expression was something grave as he leaned forward, gripping her by the shoulder to look at her intently. "You already know the advice, Bade."

She did, and she didn't look back at him, letting in a shaking breath when she said it the same time he did—the same words he had often said, and the same words she often heard.

"Don't be human."

Seconds later, the Peacekeeper opened the door and told them their time was up. Bry gave her a meaningful look before he backed away into the hall.

And he shut the door, leaving her in her silence.


	3. Arrival

The train ride was extraordinarily quiet. She had expected it to be this way, knowing that everyone would have something on their minds after the Reapings, as most did.

Still, she didn't expect the silence to hit her so hard.

Melise sat in one of the chairs near one of the windows, watching as the stone of her district began to disappear into unfamiliar hills. She didn't pay any attention to Carrick, who was on the opposite side of the room, staring into space.

"You are both very lucky," Eustacia chirped, bounding over to the window near the male to stretch the curtains wide. One of the curtains hit Carrick in the face. "Your district is the nearest to the Capitol, so you will be the first ones there!"

Neither tribute said a word, only nodding to acknowledge that they had heard her. The district representative sighed something under her breath and waddled away, stealing a treat from the food cart on her way through a sliding door.

Melise had found the refreshments earlier, though it wasn't the food she was interested in, the survivalist instinct she grew up with getting the best of her again. She found herself twirling one of the eating knives in her fingers, staring at it with a strange fascination she couldn't shake. Occasionally she would stab it into the arm of the chair when she could, knowing that there were no eyes to scold her. The only other eyes there were her brother's; she could feel his gaze on her, and his apparent unease filled the whole room.

She felt herself going mad with the silence, though, so she decided to break through it.

"You should eat something," Melise said quietly to him, not looking at him.

When he didn't answer, she finally dared a glance over at him, seeing him now staring at his slightly shaking hands. He was quiet when he spoke, perhaps still in shock from the recent events. "I'm not hungry."

She noticed him looking very pale, and she figured that maybe he wasn't hungry after all.

"Well, they said dinner will be in an hour," she stated. "So I guess you could eat then."

"Fine."

Silence fell again.

Her grip on the knife had become white-knuckled, some part of her wanting to apologize to him for everything—but some part of her pride prevented her from speaking, as if apologizing to her new enemy was the wrong thing to do.

But he wasn't her enemy—not even close. He was her brother, her friend. If the situation permitted, she would have volunteered for him in a heartbeat, but of course that wasn't possible. She could only be something of an ally, in the end… but alliances could only last for so long, and it was just as Bry had said: He was a tribute, not her brother. He was a _tribute_.

Thinking that way hurt less now, and would hurt less in the very end.

Unless he hurt her first.

Something gripped at her chest at the very thought of Carrick being just as much a part of the Games as she was—but who was to say he couldn't be? He was strong, inside and out. Perhaps her greatest enemy was sitting directly across from her, and she didn't even know...

She held the knife a little too tightly when she sent it down again, finding that it was now stuck in the wood of her chair. Carrick eyed her but said nothing, expecting this sort of behavior from her after years of training for victory.

Bry and Eustacia walked into the room soon enough, with Eustacia calling that the Reapings were finished and were being recapped on the television. She made a television appear out of the ceiling so that it slowly fell down to their level, tiny but clear as can be. Already there was a picture before them of District 1, where two glitzy and proper tributes volunteered for their shot to win. Melise ripped the knife out from the chair and ignored Eustacia's immediate admonishment.

District 2 came next, and in spite of herself, Melise averted her gaze, only listening as the scene was replayed. How long ago was that now? A few hours? Less than that?

The silence that played after Carrick's name was incredibly loud. Melise was almost glad to hear the reporters say something over the moment, even though she couldn't register what they were saying, feeling strangely numb in spite of everything.

Luckily, they switched districts again, and they all began to blur together, no matter how alert Melise tried to be. She aimed to see who looked the strongest, who looked the weakest—who might turn out to be a surprise. A few potential adversaries stuck out to her in the higher districts, but not so much in the lower ones, until she noticed a lean but strong-looking figure in District 11 that reluctantly stepped onto the platform—a possible enemy, too. The ones from District 12, though, looked very weak. She would aim for them first.

Quickly, she tried to shake the thoughts away, knowing that she wasn't in the Games yet—but, then again, she was always preparing for the Games. It was too late to stop thinking now.

In time, the coverage of the latest Hunger Games happenings ended, and Bry decidedly shut the television off. The female mentor arrived not too long after, introducing herself to them in a lackluster sort of way. Melise didn't pay much attention, only focused on the mentor she actually knew as the tributes were walked through what to expect once they got to the Capitol.

"It's a process," said Bry, not looking at them as he chomped into a chicken drumstick, feeling, for some reason, that sharing details of the Games was appropriate for dinner talk. "First day is the introduction, the tribute parades. You'll have to look and act sharp."

"We know how it goes," said Melise coolly, glancing up at him from her plate. "We've watched it every year."

"You want to know the _details_ or not?" Bry eyed her. "Personally, I'd want to know the details. That way, I'd at least have one thing to expect."

He was right, Melise figured. There wasn't much one could fully expect but the events of the pre-Games.

They went through the details further despite all they knew before, with the mentors shedding some insight on what details not to overlook. Carrick was leaning forward in his seat, forgetting his food entirely as he listened intently, while Melise, already having heard this speech plenty of times, idly played with the knife again, puncturing her beans with it.

Eustacia's high-pitched voice rang through the area as she hopped into the room soon after, squealing about arriving to the Capitol.

"Already?" Carrick asked, blinking as his head jerked up to look out the window.

"I told you it would be quick." Eustacia beamed, bounding over to the window to look for herself. "Oh, isn't it beautiful?"

"Gorgeous," said Melise quietly, not even looking up.

But she felt a hand touch her arm, and after a weighty pause, she glanced up to see her brother smiling weakly, trying to make light of the situation—something he always tried to do, it seemed. He was noticeably less numb to the world now, as if he had figured everything out already.

"Let's go look," he said, gesturing outside.

Something in his eyes made her lose her will to stay, and she reluctantly followed him, some part of him not quite wanting to look at the very city that might be cheering for her demise. When she did look, though, she was amazed at the sight.

It was slightly more extravagant than her district, however wealthier her district was than others. There was an abundance of colors and colorful people, certainly different than what she was used to. The buildings were gigantic and towering, glittering brilliantly in the sun, which was just peering out from behind some mountains, ready to set and reveal an equally stunning night. They found themselves waving at those eager to get a glimpse of the first tributes to arrive, until they were hidden soon enough when the train passed through a tunnel.

"Get ready," said the rough voice of Bry from behind, causing Carrick to jump. "Everything's about to change."

Neither tribute said another word after that, staring into the all-too sudden darkness.

Their mentors left with Eustacia, heading toward the end of the train where they would be released into the Capitol that beckoned them. Melise, though, suddenly and irrationally wished she could stay there in this transition between two different places, not quite willing to get out and see for herself. She immediately forced the feeling away, knowing that this was to come eventually—knowing that this was what she had volunteered for. Her time would come.

The train began to slow to a stop, landing at a pearly-white station filled with colors, and they headed toward the door in silence. It wasn't long until the train halted completely, the door sliding open.

And, shoulder to shoulder, they stepped out into the light.


	4. Parade

She didn't get to see a lot of the city. Almost immediately after arrival, she and Carrick were whisked away to a tall glass building that sat behind the main strip of where the tribute parade would be. Melise didn't get to say a word to anyone before Eustacia shoved her toward an unfamiliar figure wearing what looked like protective gear.

"They'll get you looking gorgeous in no time!" Eustacia sang, trotting away with Carrick's arm in hers. Carrick glanced back at his sister, who only stared back until her vision of him was obstructed by a smoothly-shutting door. Melise was led away shortly after by the figure beside her.

"Where are we going?" she asked, staring out the glass windows at the city.

The figure didn't answer, speaking to someone nearby and laughing, and Melise glanced over at him, her arm tensing, preparing to rip out of his grip. "_Where_ are we going?"

"Just down this hall," the man said lightly, staring forward.

Melise could only follow.

It was a very routine feeling despite its overall unfamiliarity—only because Melise knew what to expect. When she arrived to the room, a trio of stylists immediately set to work in a hum of excitement, taking her before she could wholly resist and stripping her of her clothing to scrub her down. They were ruthless in their preening from there, though at one of her muttered protests they commented that her experience wasn't nearly as much as those in the lower districts ("All that _dirt_!" one of them squeaked with a shudder).

Soon enough, they donned her in what appeared to be glittering black attire suitable for some ancient soldiers she had learned about in school, with a headdress to match. She could only stare at herself in the reflective wall as they did her makeup, her jaw clenched the entire time, unable to help the protective habit formed.

"Oh, stop glaring," one of the stylists sighed, patting her on the shoulder. "You look marvelous."

She was let go in time, her skin stinging somewhat in the wind as she walked out into the outside world. Carrick and their mentors were ready to go, standing under the overhanging that led to the road they would go on in their carriages. When she arrived, the equally-costumed Carrick made no outward reaction, perhaps unwilling to say exactly what was on his mind about the whole situation. Melise figured that was probably best.

"You were one of the first ones here, so now we have to wait," said Bry casually.

"How long?"

"A short while. The trains travel pretty fast for the other districts, too, so it shouldn't be too long."

They waited, with Melise leaning her back against the wall, wishing she had a knife to puncture something with, something she often did to cure her boredom. One of the stylists saw that she had accidentally messed up her headdress and fixed it in a tizzy, telling her to sit up straight.

Eventually, a majority of the districts had arrived, allowing them to take some form of action.

"Ready?" Bry asked, clapping Melise a little too hard on the shoulder.

"Born ready," she replied, not looking at him.

Carrick said nothing.

They were taken to their carriages in time, with Carrick helping her up into it after he jumped on first. Melise almost didn't take his hand in that same irrational rush of mistrust she had felt before, until she remembered that this was her brother, and she took his hand without a word. Bry shut the door behind them, gripping at the knob and gazing at them both.

"Present yourself how you want 'em to see you," he stated. "There's always a strategy involved in this sort of thing. Some of them don't know that." He glanced at the lower districts for emphasis, and Melise noticed them all looking somewhat confused, especially District 12.

Melise and Carrick only nodded, gripping onto the sides as the carriages began to roll to the giant exit in preparation for the events. District 1 was already stationed there, the first to be ready of all of them. They shared rather disgusted glances with the siblings from District 2, who didn't acknowledge them.

Melise took the chance of waiting to dare a glance back. Most of the tributes had been gathered at this point, some standing aimlessly in their carriages while others were getting into them. She mistakenly caught the eye of the male tribute from District 11 and quickly looked away, keeping her expression impassive.

In time, the tributes were all settled, and before Melise could say a word to Carrick, they were off, rolling into the blinding lights of the parade before them.

It was as if everything was going in slow motion. She could hardly register what was around her no matter how prepared for it she was, the deafening noise of the citizens being reduced to muffled numbness. The only words she could hear were the ones announcing her district, and, with some effort, she lifted her chin further, keeping her face void of emotion—hoping to present herself as the very image of valor, the image of a victor.

She faced forward without a word, staring into nothing with her head held high, while her brother stood opposite her, his head lowered and eyes closed. Someone threw a rose at them that they both managed to catch, only to notice that it had no thorns. Carrick kept it daintily in his fingers as he waved back, but some strange part of Melise caused her to break the unusual rose's stem in half and throw it back onto the runway.

They were one of the first to arrive at the very end, and only then could Melise register the sounds around her—deafening and somewhat eerie, something she wholly expected and yet didn't expect at all. Rather than the pride she had anticipated feeling upon being called to this victorious show-and-tell, she could barely feel anything at all, a sort of hollowness that greatly contrasted the brightness around her. It nearly blinded her.

Their carriages stopped near the end, and the Bades gazed up at the platform above them, where the President sat upon his throne, silent in his scrutiny. The others joined them, and Melise didn't acknowledge them. She would wait for the time where she could watch them alone. Now, she had to keep her façade going. She had to present herself as a threat. That was what she was. What she had to be.

The words from the President were brief. Melise barely registered the speech, having heard it so many times in the past eighteen years that it was almost like a mantra in itself: _We honor your courage and your sacrifice_. The last word, though, struck a chord in her, and she glanced up at him with a deep breath as if to agree.

The parade was over as quickly as it began. The carriages were led back to where they started, and she was the first to jump off just as Bry and their other mentor (she didn't care to learn her name) arrived to the scene.

"Good work," was all Bry said, and he put his hand on his mentee's shoulder, leading her through the concrete walls to their new home. Carrick followed closely behind.

It was just as extravagant as promised. Décor and furniture of all colors and shapes dotted the area, especially the living room, which was adorned with large couches to ensure a comfortable viewing of Games footage. Carrick was wide-eyed as he entered, though Melise's eyes followed Bry as he showed them the directions of their bedrooms.

"We ought to watch the recaps before settling," said Bry as he meandered over to the couch, gesturing for them to follow.

They did so, with Melise plopping into the chair so as not to have anyone sitting by her. Carrick sat reluctantly in between their mentors and the crystal-clear television was turned on soon enough.

Melise watched blankly as the parade began, somehow detached from the cheering of the Capitol citizens as they silently bet for or against her survival. They followed District 1 on the screen, looking every bit as they had up close; Carrick appearing nervous but open and Melise seemingly void of any emotion. Presently, she could feel Bry's eyes on her, but she didn't look back.

The other tributes came just after them, the spotlight put on every district announced. She gauged the reactions and appearances of the others, wondering if doing so might help her better pick out who to take on first, but as of now, there was not a way to tell. There were always surprises in the Hunger Games, after all…

The extravagance of the parade ended soon enough, leaving Melise somewhat relieved in spite of her determination to get all of this done with. Their mentors left them to explore, though the tributes sat there for a while, perhaps still trying to register everything. Melise couldn't blame him, or herself; after all, hadn't they just been home in District 2, with one expecting only a certain outcome while the other strived for it? Had it really only been a day or so before the parade? It was all suddenly an unusual blur despite how much she tried to make it worthwhile.

Carrick seemed to read her mind.

"It's really happening, isn't it?"

Just as Melise had gotten to her feet to leave, she glanced back, seeing Carrick still sitting in the seat, his eyes focused on the screen.

"What do you mean?" Melise asked, her voice trailing. Despite the feeling in her gut telling her otherwise, she didn't quite want to talk to him. Not with what they were about to face. Though wouldn't it be better if she did?

Carrick finally looked up at her, frowning. "Just… It all seemed like a dream up until now. Until I saw it starting to happen there." He nodded to the screen. "Now it's just a dream I can't wake up from. A nightmare."

Melise didn't respond, unsure of what to say. Before, she would have known exactly what to tell him, that bond between them unbroken—but now it was strained by events they couldn't control themselves, and so were her words.

"Yes. It's really happening. Now get some sleep."

And she left.


	5. Guarded

Training came just as quickly as the Reaping itself.

After a particularly quiet breakfast with Carrick, the two were taken to the Training Center to officially begin what Melise anticipated to be a good chance to scope out potential threats or easy kills. Carrick, on the other hand, tried to make light of his morbid situation, talking quietly about how much he would try to learn in the scope of the few days of training; he seemed particularly interested in learning how to climb, knowing that was always his weakness when working back in District 2. Melise never responded to him directly, only making a few distracted affirmations, for she was far too deep in thought.

They arrived in time to what appeared to be a large gray arena of a room, where weapons were laid out in every corner along with stations to help build skill. The moment they walked in, the Career districts took advantage of the new arrivals to gaze at them—scrutinizing them just as she planned to do. She only stared back impassively for a few moments before tugging on Carrick's sleeve to go to the middle, where the instructor stood poised to tell them what to do.

Melise barely heard her cautious yet casual words, her eyes on the knives and targets nearby, wondering if practicing her throwing might be of good use. She remembered Bry telling her that showing off her skills would only make her a more significant threat to the others, but wasn't that what she wanted, in the end? Fear incited power. Power incited victory.

But there were other things to be done first, she supposed.

In time, they were let go to their own devices, and Melise shared a glance with her brother before heading over to the bow and arrow rack, deciding to try out her hand at aiming first. Carrick shuffled over to the rock-climbing station behind a twelve-year-old girl from District 9.

Time passed far too quickly. Melise felt like she wasn't able to learn enough, visiting nearly every station that had something to do with combat. At one point, she finally decided to visit the throwing knives, figuring that honing her skills was better than nothing.

She walked over without looking at anyone, picking up a trio of knives from the rack and standing behind the boy from District 11, who seemed to be having trouble even hitting the target. She watched blankly from her spot in line, noting that his grip was far too tight, his brown knuckles nearly white—with apprehension or frustration, she didn't know. He glanced back as if feeling her stare, brown eyes meeting hers, and she immediately averted her gaze, folding her arms over her chest in boredom.

The boy eventually gave up, sharing one more scrutinizing glance with her before heading off to a different station. Melise stepped to the front, concentrating deeply as she aimed at the targets. She remembered her constant training, all her practicing and hard work, and she focused on the middle as Bry always told her—always keep the eye on the goal.

She threw her first knife and it barely hit the edge.

She heard some laughter from behind and whirled around to see the District 1 pair leering at her, waiting for their turn. Melise stared at them for a few beats, and something seemed to unnerve them enough for her to face forward again, concentrating again, her eyes closing to gather her breath, to calm whatever traitorous nerves assaulted her system.

She opened her eyes and threw it again, and it landed just outside of the middle ring. For extra measure, she took a leap forward, a sharp breath escaping her lips as she lobbed the final knife at the target.

It landed straight in the middle.

The successes didn't stop there, her skills at throwing seemingly the best skill she had to offer aside from face-to-face combat. The Careers looked highly interested, while some of the lower districts looked terrified nearby. In time, Melise stopped, letting out the breath she had been holding in for too long.

The moment Melise stepped away, so did the other Careers.

"Nice throwing," said the boy from District 1, clapping her on the shoulder. Melise moved her shoulder lithely so that his hand slipped away. "Wouldn't mind having you on our team."

"Team," Melise echoed, not looking at him directly.

"You know," said the girl, regarding Melise with catlike eyes. "Allies. I think we would do very well together. Don't you?"

Melise looked at them for a moment, a million thoughts going through her head. Did they usually offer alliances so soon? She figured they had to; how else would they all be grouped so quickly after the initial bloodbaths she had seen?

But alliances only lasted so far—and in the Hunger Games, no one could be trusted. No one.

It took her a few moments to answer, until she knew what her answer finally was. "Not interested."

"We insist," said the boy coolly, tapping his knife against his other hand.

"I said I'm not interested. I'm in this alone… All right?" said Melise coolly.

With that, she made to walk away, but the boy snatched her tightly by the arm, causing her to glare up at his towering height, preparing to rip her grasp away and fight him right there if she had to; the knife was still in her hand, after all—

Something suddenly rammed into the boy's side, nearly toppling him over thanks to his unpreparedness. The three looked over, only to see the boy from District 11 now at the weight station, his eyes wide as he realized his mistake.

"Sorry," he called, stretching his fingers. "My hands slipped."

The District 1 boy grumbled something under his breath, kicking the weight bag aside and walking away with his partner in tow. Melise glanced back at the boy, who met her eyes again and stated rather sheepishly, "You should visit the nature sections. Could be useful."

And he resumed his efforts with the weights.

Melise said nothing, quickly going away to lurk around the area, wondering if now could be her chance to scope out the rest of the tributes.

The lower districts were fairly easy to spot; they were usually frailer than anyone else, sticking mainly to the nature or survival stations, except for the few braver souls willing to branch out to combat, thinking they had a chance. She separated the weakest ones from the ones that seemed stronger—or, if not stronger, than more charismatic. She supposed the one from District 11 would be in favor of some sponsors; he didn't seem strong, but he did seem crafty, from what she had seen at stations before. She would target him, certainly.

She ventured to the rope-tying station out of pure necessity, and from there she observed the rest in silence, pinpointing the strengths and weaknesses of all she could see. There was one from District 3 who seemed cunning and could easily pinpoint poisonous plants. A girl from District 4 was fairly skillful at shooting with arrows, though her lack of strength and dainty frame left her an easy tribute to overtake if she couldn't manage finding an arrow. The boy from District 8 looked pale and underfed as they always did, but he was fast—very fast.

She assessed the others with equal concentration, figuring that knowing their skills and the lack thereof would aid her when the time came to confront any of them, if the chance permitted. She even found herself watching Carrick, who wasn't doing so well at any other skills but strength and camouflage. She did notice him improving in his climbing, though, and figured that some other skills could improve in time. It was the same for everyone, she supposed—so she always had to keep a vigilant eye. Especially on those that posed an immediate threat.

"You're tying that wrong," said the instructor with a sigh, and Melise was warped out of her own little world and back to reality, accidentally tying the rest to one of her fingers in her jolt.

After learning just a bit more, training eventually ended, and they all filed out to go back to their temporary homes. Carrick and Melise were quiet as per usual since arriving, only making the occasional comment about what they had done or the fact that Carrick's shoulder was aching from lifting the weights. She tried not to listen but couldn't help it, knowing that these were practically the only moments she could share with him before the Hunger Games were to arrive.

It was an unusual position to be in. Although Carrick, in the end, was a tribute, he was also her brother—and he technically wouldn't be a tribute until the moment they stepped off of the pedestals in the arena. She remembered Bry telling her not to be human, to think of Carrick as a tribute so that it hurt less in the end if she truly wanted to win… But perhaps there were some other motives. Perhaps thinking of him as a tribute was best reserved for the arena itself. Perhaps treating him like the brother he was could gain some sympathy from sponsors…

What was she thinking?

She grew cold again, and Carrick seemed to notice, his talking becoming quieter until it ceased to be. She could feel his gaze on her, and when she made the human mistake of glancing over at him, he stopped just before the elevator and asked, "Are you ever gonna talk?"

"Why?" Melise mused, looking away. "We both know it won't help in the end."

"But shouldn't we focus on now?" he asked. "While we still have the chance? While you're still my sister and not a tribute?" He looked almost angry out of the corner of her eye. No, not angry, she decided. Frustrated was the better word. It was a look she knew well. "This is our last chance to show that we're worth something before we're thrown into something beyond our control."

"It isn't—"

"It is beyond your control, Melise, whether you agree or not," Carrick hissed. "You only volunteered for the Games because the Games are happening. If they didn't exist, would you still volunteer to kill people in cold blood?"

Melise didn't answer.

"Have some humanity before you run out," said Carrick, looking at her intently before he finally turned away and stepped into the elevator. Melise could only follow, silent as they waited to go to their floor.

The silence was almost deafening. She pondered her own thought process just minutes before, where she wondered if treating him like her brother again would not only help her, but also make her trip in the arena slightly easier. She knew she could trust him easily, for the only thing he would hurt was the stone that he used in his work in District 2. He wouldn't hurt her, and she would last as long as she could without hurting him, if she could help it… Perhaps humanity could be saved for a few days. Just not too much. Too much was dangerous.

"I'm sorry," said Melise at length, causing her brother to look at him in surprise. "I am. I've just anticipated this for so long that I can't help being a little guarded."

Carrick nodded briefly before looking away from her. He sucked in a deep breath. "Melise, we're in this together until the Games start… I don't like it, but we are. So we might as well make use of it. Might as well be family while we still can."

Melise nodded solemnly, and Carrick clapped his hand lightly on her shoulder before stepping out of the elevator once they arrived. Melise lingered behind for a long moment, staring into the room with a sudden need to stab something again, wondering if tomorrow's training might bring some more insight into what she might expect.

She stepped out to join the others as Eustacia trilled that dinner was ready, and she willingly sat beside her brother at the extravagant table, forcing a smile as he poked her lightly in the arm with the tip of his fork.


End file.
